honestly I never imagined it would get this far, that I would feel this way, 17-year-old me resurfacing to make yet another dramatic comeback. I'm not just habiting the same sunsetty parking lots and drifting away in my own boredom, but I'm starting to wish for impossibles and nevers, and most of all, I'm starting to think of you. I'm starting to think of you like I have a mad middle school crush, a fluttering heart without any kind of cage to hold it back, and I'm happy to let it float away into nothingness like a helium balloon set free by a toddler--up, up, up into thin atmospheric hiding places.
This isn't just a love letter to you; I mean, of course it is, with your eyes that reflect all my laughs and the way you tangle your thoughts up with mine. But it's also a love letter to me, to myself, whom I often believe to be completely confused and without any sense. It's a love letter to myself because over the last few months, I've been surprised by how many times I've been right when everything seemed to be telling me I was wrong. This is one of those times, when I feel I've been right this whole time despite everything telling me that I'm confused, or misunderstanding, or illogical.
So, this is an "in-your-face" sort of confrontation, an "I told you so," a reverse confession, I suppose. I reflect towards others the way I'm treated by them, and I'm completely in love with you. Everything reminds me of you, and I want to talk to you when my day is good, or when my day is bad, or when nothing has happened at all.
I can't finish this, because I can't write what I'm feeling. It's unusual for me, to not be able to write it. But I can't. Where are you? Why can't you help me?
